“Wait, come'ere.” Rhys says. Tim moves a bit closer but it’s evidently not close enough because Rhys pulls at the front of his jacket until they’re nearly toe-to-toe and presses his forehead to the glass front of Tim’s helmet.
“What—”
“Yeah,” Rhys breathes, fogging the glass, “I knew it’d be cool.”
He’s close enough that Tim could count his eyelashes, close enough he could kiss him if the glass wasn’t there, close enough he can probably hear Tim’s unsteady breathing—
Trade with @snailpdf 💖Did a scene from chapter 4 of his lovely fic ‘The Devil Doesn’t Bargain’
